


The Nightwatch

by PoundCake (dorking)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Character Death, Fantasy AU, M/M, Tragedy, Werewolves, gabriel is a werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorking/pseuds/PoundCake
Summary: Genji Shimada is missing. In an act of desperation Hanzo Shimada calls in the supernaturally gifted Jesse McCree to resolve the mystery as a favour. Neither man could foresee the events that would uncover an unseen world of dark magic, carefully shrouded by Jack, the King of Nightwatch and his cursed knight Gabriel.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hey heads up I'm want to go back and edit passages as I see fit, thanks sloppy to editing!

 

He hadn’t expected to be cornered so quickly, and so as the great wolf crowded him he found himself groping the wall in disbelief. His eyes clenched shut, sweat dribbling down his forehead into his lashes; a fine film of moisture collecting above his lip. He barely registered the moment Peacekeeper made contact with his boot. Regardless, it was useless now that the chamber was empty and surely that ominous sound in the distance was a bell tolling, and it was tolling for Jesse Motherfucking McCree.  
                He surprised himself by whirling around, hard-browed and gritting his teeth. For a moment he caught the great wolf’s eyes, dead center pupil, and felt a lifting of tension. The beast had a moment of clarity. Now focused as ever, he made sure to steady his gaze and never glance aside. The wolf’s breathing calmed. Deadeye was working its devilish magic.

“Gabriel…Gabriel I know it’s you. Please.”

Teeth bared and snarling, the great lumbering wolf advanced on him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Jesse McCree would later remind himself that this had all started with a phone call.

His cell didn’t ring often, and when it did Jesse was sure to screen calls anyways. This time was a little different. When he glanced at the name underneath the number, his eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. He picked up immediately.

“It’s Shimada”

“Jesus Hanzo-“

“ _Shimada_ ”, the voice on the other end implored with strained composure.

Jesse did not reply, knowing it was best just to let the man say his piece.

“Genji is gone. I’d like for you to track him down” Hanzo remained curt, although he was audibly fiddling with something on the other end of the line. The call was painful. Hanzo would have only done it as a very desperate last resort.

"Ya can't find him yourself?"

"Should I even accomplish that, he would not come willingly if I beckoned"

There was a long awkward pause.

 “Where do you need me?” Jesse offered, ending the silence that was now bordering on petulant.

“Northern Vermont, I’ve arranged transportation. I’ll send you the details shortly”

“Awfully presumptuous that I’d drop everything I’m doing out here Han-” Jesse corrected himself “ _Shimada_ ”.

“What choice do you have but to comply?” bitterness found its way out the receiver.

Jesse shuffled around his motel room, flicking a beer cap off the stained wooden table. The tattoo on his left arm began to itch. “I don’t”, Jesse felt a lump forming in his throat as he grimaced, using his nails to scrape at the offending ink through his red flannel “I don’t got a choice”.

“Goodbye”

Jesse cursed, and began throwing what few possessions he had into his duffle.

 

* * *

 

With his auburn hair jammed underneath his Stetson, Jesse McCree’s feet found their way to the Billings airport through bus and taxi. Swapping the crisp mid-October air for stuffy vehicle after stuffy vehicle, what Jesse had been doing out in Montana seemed like a very distant dream now.

   Flight was Jesse’s least favourite mode of transportation. Although he couldn’t very well complain when his tickets had been booked and paid for. There was something about flashing his ID around that put his gut on edge. Something about passing by so many strangers in one day that made his head dizzy. It was that wretched stink of good and evil assaulting his senses, oversaturating Deadeye as it attempted to sort through so many damned souls on its own accord. If he wasn’t careful it would start spinning in his head like a slot machine trying to land an agonizing triple 7. It threatened to bleed when exhausted.

    Jesse diverted his gaze out the airport window and onto the tarmac, adjusting his shades and absently rubbing his forearm. He hadn’t seen Hanzo since they parted ways nearly five years ago. He was angrier and much crueler back then. The circumstances that lead to their separation were excruciating for Jesse to rehash. And yet he found himself mulling over every detail as he departed from Montana en route to Vermont. His train of thought was distracting enough that Deadeye calmed, leaving the hustle and bustle of travelers to shrink down on the earth as he ascended into the clouds.

   The air was a little different in Vermont, it seemed wet and warmer outside even though Jesse had landed well past sunset. The bar Hanzo had directed him to was a ways from the airport; Jesse briefly contemplated staying the night somewhere on the road, but Hanzo had reassured him the bar would be open whatever time he arrived. _A bar of all places_. He was being mocked…or worse, tested. Thumbing a wad of cash in his pocket anxiously, Jesse felt the cool bite of bottle cap nestled underneath his green. His spine tingled as a compulsive thirst crept upon him. With his best interest in mind, it craved only to silence those dreadful memories Hanzo Shimada had unearthed. Deadeye twitched in his socket.

The taxi to the bar was thankfully uneventful.

                Rotting Jack-O-Lanterns spilled their innards out on the deck leading into _Lou’s Tavern_. The bar was a dive. The sweet smell of cooling vomit and pumpkin crinkled Jesse’s nose. The vomit was an all too familiar smell; he felt his hands trembling gently as he pulled on _Lou’s_ thick wooden door. It was hushed inside, dank with body odor and grime. Licking his lips Jesse scanned the bar. He could hardly believe that Hanzo Shimada was really there, sitting in a corner booth waiting patiently for his arrival.

 _For the arrival of Jesse McCree_.

* * *

 

Hanzo was nursing a small ginger ale. If anyone other than Jesse McCree had sat down in front of him, he would have acknowledged their presence. But with Jesse it was all games. A one-two step in the right direction, a careful waltz on eggshells. McCree made him nervous. One wrong move would shatter Hanzo’s carefully constructed indifference. He did not make eye contact when a puff of dust rose up in the air from underneath McCree’s backside. Out from under his lashes, Hanzo instead gave the cowboy a quick once over.  
  
                McCree looked haggard. Hanzo wasn’t interested in what work he’d found out in Montana, but whatever the circumstances were…the cowboy was not treating himself properly. Darkened circles had blossomed under his eyes; one like copper and the other was dreadfully red. His beard had grown in quite thick too and it looked haphazardly shaved. Hanzo noted the little nicks dotting McCree’s neck, implicating an old razor. He smelled like smoke and cheap cologne, no doubt meant to mask that slight tinge of stale whiskey. Hanzo could still smell it on his breath however.

“You strike me more as coffee shop kind of guy Han-“

“Refer to me as _Shimada_ only, thank you”

McCree’s lips thinned out in frustration as a slight blush worked its way up his ears. Hanzo scrubbed his forehead.  
  
“I’m thankful for your promptness. If you wouldn’t mind listening instead of speaking, I’m going to proceed by telling you what information I know.”

McCree didn’t seem all too pleased, but sat passively with his arms crossed, “can I at least ask what the hell your brother was all the way out here?”  
  
“I believe he was following someone. I’m not certain” Hanzo lied. He began fiddling with a broken arrow tip under the table. “Would you like anything to drink, McCree?” he countered. If McCree was bothered by the jab he did not let it show.

“No. I’m uh…off the stuff” a lie, the cowboy knew two could play at this game.  
  
   Hanzo nodded “I see. Very well. It is normal for my family to keep close tabs on Genji, but as of fourteen days ago he has gone missing.” Hanzo pulled a small map out of his bag, marked with red circles and neat writing “It seems he is not the only one. During my own investigation, I have found that there have been disappearances in this area for the last five months or so” Hanzo indicated a large circle encompassing three nearby towns, including their current location. There was a large natural park in the center. “You may ask why I felt I needed… _that_ ability. My own gifts are very limited in what they can accomplish, and once I discovered this-” Hanzo pulled out Genji’s magnificent katana “right here”, he pointed to the park “I knew my men were not equipped to handle this kind of…rescue. Genji would not part with his blade unless he was separated from it by some incredible force.”

McCree shifted “What, did ya feel something?”

Hanzo nodded “Yes. There was some unnatural…aura…surrounding the area. I believe Genji was lured there. I do not think it was coincidence. He was possibly _taken_.”

McCree stopped himself from snorting “Ya mean like…what, fairies? Fey?”

Hanzo leaned back in his seat, absently wiping the condensation forming on his glass “Possibly. I can only sense them, McCree. But I know you can find them. You have crossed over those lines before”

There it was, the proverbial elephant in the room. A crushing silence slammed down upon the two men. It stretched on until McCree spoke with a soft whisper.

“You still can’t even look at me proper, can ya?” the cowboy smiled ruefully.

“Not after what I allowed. I will never forgive myself”

“I wanted this Hanzo”

“I should have never offered” the marksman closed his eyes and sighed “ _Shimada”_

McCree nodded, “Fine. I’ll see what I can find out in that park for ya. We’ll be in touch, _Shimada_ ” he replied after collecting the map from the table.

Hanzo allowed McCree to dismiss himself, and while the cowboy stomped off he couldn’t help but note the shakiness of McCree’s gait. Hanzo suddenly dropped the arrow head he'd been fiddling with, and finally acknowledged the shiver that had spread through his body. It would seem both men were anxious of the long sleepless hours promised to stretch out before them. They suffered the same affliction and yet they were too prideful to conquer it any other way but shamefully alone.

* * *

 

Jesse had finished a bottle of Jack before he'd even arrived in front of the pale white door marked _9_  at the local motel. He showered first thing after locking himself inside, balancing his hip flask on the rim of the yellowed tub. Stripped naked, Jesse placed his palm flat on the wall and leaned into the pitiful stream of tepid water. His head was throbbing and his vision was spinning. He hadn't been able to stop the tremble he'd collected at the door of _Lou's._

"Christ almighty"

He couldn't stand himself when he was like _this_. Over-emotional and yet blank in thought; aside from the shaking, sweaty palms and jittering teeth were the only tells of his emotional ruin. The only ones people were allowed to see, anyways.

_Pathetic_

The drinking was his only consolation, as well as his greatest punishment. It had been bad before, but five years down the road it had only gotten worse. Most of the time he could hardly call himself functional. His head gave a powerful throb causing him to keel over gagging, and slip onto his knees. With his nose now hovering above the deep basin he stared wildly at the drain. Jesse could hardly believe his eyes. The sucking hole was draining the shower not of water, but _blood_. Wide streams of watery _bright fucking red blood._ It was then that Jesse shouted. He could now see the liquid dripping down his face from his scalp, and that thick globules of flesh were all caught in his body hair too. Scrambling back in terror and sliding into the swelling pools of gore caused his head to reel. Looking at his bloodied hands in disbelief, Jesse vomited violently between his legs. Shuddering he struggled to open his eyes.

_It ain't real, Jess. Ain't real ain't real ain't real ain't real._

When he worked up the courage to chance a peek, the water was running clear again as it struggled to push half-digested whiskey and Corn Nuts down the drain. He forced the rest of the bile down with his foot and stumbled gracelessly out of the tub. The water wasn't warm anymore anyways. Grabbing a too-small towel from the closet, Jesse dried himself off as best he could. He was shocked that his body was clear of all that _mess_ he'd been swimming in. He half expected to be pulling clots off his chest and legs still. A thick warm voice greeted him from behind.

"He sees it too you know"

Jesse was surprised, but the voice was no cause for alarm. It was familiar and sweet as honey. "Ah-Na" He slumped into the armchair in the corner facing the bed.

There she sat, poised and refined as ever, "just Ana is fine dear" she smiled in a benign fashion. She had taken on the appearance of an older and wiser looking woman, dark skinned and radiating with an unearthly beauty. But then she looked different every time they met, which was still fairly seldom.

"Funny you should show ta'night. I'm guessin' it ain't no...coincidence" Jesse could feel the adrenaline leaving his body. He felt mushy and overcome with nausea. He was still very drunk.

"I'm just checking in on my pet project" there was a short pause "It's uncouth for a grown man to cry, Jesse McCree."

Tears were involuntarily falling down his cheeks, as they did every time he laid eyes on Ana. Seeing her was to  witness a God. Although, the reality was the exact opposite.

"Ya mean to tell me...Hanzo..." he couldn't properly finish the sentence without slurring.

"Of course. Jesse, what you did was a terrible thing." 

He felt like he was being admonished by his mother. But the events of his past were as much the result of _her_ machinations as well as his. It was like being handed a knife and then punished for wielding it.

"Do you regret it our transaction?" She asked lightly.

Jesse stared hard at the ground, his consciousness felt separated from his body. He was visiting another time and place; five years ago when the incident with Deadlock happened. He scratched at his tattoo.

"No. No, I'd let ya have anything...ta...ta give'em what they deserved" he was shaking once more. The smell of burning flesh and gunpowder crept into his nostrils, but this time he knew it was just a memory. "Deadeye has only made my life better" he was smiling, but it was pained. Ana watched him silently as he began to drunkenly weep.


	3. Chapter 3

If Gabriel had even an inch less of self-restraint, he’d have knocked Jack’s crown right off his blond head. The King was smiling passively, his laurels supported by two magnificently detailed feathered wings, windswept and frozen in their gold design. For a brief moment, Gabriel remembered bitterly that he too once had a crown of such beauty. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he reminded himself that this was his own agreement and that there could be no other compromise. There was little point in dwelling on the past. He wasn't going to let Jack see him sulking.

The vast glittering throne room was nearly empty. It’s impossibly high ceiling was matched only by the great stained glass on the far wall. This window was the the sole source of illumination, glowing from behind the Nightwatch King in all his golden glory. He was comfortably perched on his chair, and looked at home in the deserted space. The castle staff were already far and few between, and they were certain to busy themselves elsewhere lest they stoke Jack’s short temper; his court had also thinned out considerably for similar reasons. The long hallway before the throne was quiet enough to hear the marble floors echo their own stony conversation.

“I do tire of your questioning Gabe,” Jack was being friendly but condescending nonetheless “I would more enjoy your company if you’d stop. You know the answers by heart, no doubt.”

The hall was so enormous and barren that a cool draft easily swept in from outside; Gabriel drew his thick fur cloak in closer to his body. These days he ran warmer than ever and yet he struggled to preserve his body heat. Self-deprecating, he reflected how there was something about bald flesh that lacked insulation. “You know I really do not appreciate constantly putting my life at risk without knowing _why_ , Jacky" Gabriel noticed the Kings face twitch at the nickname, "the last man you insisted we take, you had no understanding of what power he possessed. You’re aware that you either underestimated him...or you overestimated my abilities-”

“-Ah, shall I turn the moon a little more next time Gabriel?” Jack interjected “Do not doubt that I full well know your capabilities my dear friend...because after all, do I not control them?”

Gabriel seethed as red hot contempt coloured his face, he suddenly felt uncomfortably warm “I’d at least like for you to stop treating me as a pawn. I’m not some man-made _machine_ who performs on your every whim."

Jack's mouth turned at the corners "Oh? You aren't?"

Ignoring the comment, Gabriel reflected on the strength the man had shown "That fellow in the cellars was only weak enough _yesterday_.” His spiritual aura was undeniably remarkable; a beautiful and ancient emerald green. It was the kind of power that ran through his blood and bone, the kind of power he’d inherited no doubt from an impressive lineage. Most of the humans Jack insisted Gabriel collect were strong, but this man was different “He has some of his own protective magic Jack...so even though I’ve done as you’ve ordered I do not know when he will be...ready” Gabriel found himself ignorant of Jacks criteria for ‘readiness’, but he willed himself to remain so. The answer would be like a cold and long drop down a deep black well. It made his stomach turn in fear, “he still attacked me even though he’s been waiting down there for a fortnight. He’s likely to try again should you grace him with your company.”

Jack sighed exasperated, “It was Hana’s job to render him a bit more…docile. That was a lack of judgement on _her_ part and not my own. But I’ll concede, and I apologize,” he hummed and shifted thoughtfully in his seat. “Perhaps I shall visit him. Knock out some of that feistiness. Yes” standing now, Jack drifted down the white marble steps and came to Gabriel’s side, clapping a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Mercy’s mercy Gabriel...I loved you more when we were equals” he grinned in a teasing manner. “Your complaints do bore me” Jack chided strolling silently down the hall, moving past his knight.

Gabriel had no real choice but to follow behind, careful not to step on the hem of Jack’s impressive sapphire cloak.

 

* * *

  

Eyes half open and leaking, he dreamt of the great wolf and how they fought in that cool and misty graveyard. Drooling, hairy, and snarling shapes melted together in his mind; a terrible fever dream for his suffering. Throbbing shots of pain bled down the nerves on his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. The air around him was so cool and clear it made the intense heat of his body all the more unbearable. His cold sweat seemed to crystalize the minute it oozed out of his pores. He was unbearably thirsty.

With what lucidity he managed to retain, Genji cursed pretty women. But more so he cursed himself for being only able to think with one head at any given time. It was his own complete lack of judgment that led to his situation.

_When is it wise to follow a woman into a graveyard?_

He asked himself this more times than he could count. It was the plot to any bad thriller. He was always prepared, that’s why he brought his sword, but he was _not_ expecting a _monster_ to leap out of the bushes while he was unguarded with his pants down. They had waited until his sword was set into the dewy grass…the woman…Blossom? Flower? _Hana_. That’s right…she had lured him there while he was in some kind of trance. Genji had to believe this to be true. The events prior to the attack were such an unfocused blur, and his willing compliance to part with his weapon was just too uncharacteristic. Genji shivered violently, and like falling into a cold puddle, a fresh sheen of sweat covered his body.

That monster had also been a man, or half-man. It hadn’t managed to land a direct attack on him, instead Genji had been subdued and captured. It was after he’d woken in this cell that he saw the _thing_ transform. It had waited until he was starving and weak to bite. On two legs, with eyes lit like embers… _yes, just like the beast from the graveyard_ …this man-wolf pinned him by the throat and sunk its yellowed teeth into his shoulder. Genji could feel poison spreading from the wound, the only thing slowing its power was his own. In fact, it was his spirit dragon that was likely keeping him alive.

It was the sound of footsteps that split open his warm reverie and pulled him back to reality. Although he could hear voices, Genji could not decipher the bickering noises reverberating down the hall. It was a language he knew, but all the same his brain felt too slow and stupid to process any of it. He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever felt so damn _sick_. If prying open his eyes through their thick layers of crust was difficult, then focusing on the figures on the other side of the cell felt entirely monumental. Genji immediately recognized the man-wolf, although now he was more _man_ than _wolf_. A neatly trimmed beard framed his features, he was impressively handsome; dark and rugged like moonlit wilderness. Genji noted that he carried no visible weapons. The other man was a stranger, blond with an ethereal glow, his deep blue eyes as vast and awesome as a cloudless sky. This man wore a pompous gilded crown and a lengthy ridiculous cape. Genji noted how far it trailed behind him. He attempted to collect his thoughts as the men argued on the in front of his bars. Desperately needing a plan of action, he figured that if a _Deus ex Machina_ had ever presented itself so neatly in front of him, now was surely the time. Waiting carefully and drawing his strength in small painful increments, it was only a matter of minutes before that stupid trail of fabric skirted just underneath the gap between the floor and the door.

It was then he would strike.


End file.
